


I've Got Your Back

by demishock



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Armiger magic is painful, Gen, IgNoct, Ignoct Week, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-09 00:31:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11657886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demishock/pseuds/demishock
Summary: Noctis's 16th birthday came with all the pomp and circumstance he hated about his station.It also came with a sword.





	I've Got Your Back

**Author's Note:**

> Written for ignoctweek on tumblr. Day 1 prompt: "Taking care of each other."
> 
> Many thanks to snarechan for the beta. Any remaining errors are mine.

Noctis's 16th birthday came with all the pomp and circumstance he hated about his station.

It also came with a sword.

Of course, Noctis was no stranger to swords; he'd been training with them since he was a kid. But this sword was different. The Engine Blade had been passed down through his family for generations, and with it came everything else his ancestors had left for their kin, all of which had been gifted to _them_ by the gods.

The morning after his coming-of-age ceremony, Noctis stood with his new sword in the middle of the marble training hall.

He didn't know how to feel.

He had both longed for and dreaded this day for most of his life. Today, his father was going to start training him in the use of the Crystal's magic. Noctis had always felt its presence, thrumming just beneath his skin like a second pulse, but he had never been able to tap into it, not even by accident. He wasn't certain he could, and wouldn't that just beat all? He wished he'd thought to ask his dad whether any of this was normal for someone of their lineage.

Desperate for a distraction from his fretful thoughts, Noctis glanced to his left, where Gladio stood at attention beside him. If he was nervous, he was doing a much better job than Noctis of hiding it. This would be his first day undergoing this type of training, as well. Gladio's family was inexorably tied to Noctis's own, and as such, he would be the first after Noctis to be granted this new, yet ancient, power. Noctis wasn't sure whether he was glad not to have to face this trial alone, or embarrassed that he was going to have a witness as he fumbled through it.

As if on cue, the golden double doors at the far end of the hall swung open, and King Regis entered, followed closely by Gladio's father, Clarus. Gladio dropped into a well-practiced bow, and Noctis reluctantly followed suit, feeling awkward about it as ever. He hated the formality of it. It made him feel more distant from his father than usual, even though they were right here in the same room together.

Worse still, the king proceeded to detail what they were going to be doing in a manner that Noctis could tell was rehearsed. He suspected his dad had heard this exact same speech word-for-word from his predecessor, King Morus, thirty years ago.

He did his best not to fidget, trying to pay attention as Regis droned on. The power of the gods was not meant for mere mortals. The line of Lucis had been given a great responsibility. It was a privilege to be able to borrow the might of the Crystal to protect the realm.

It was nothing Noctis hadn't heard before.

After what felt like ages, Regis ended his monologue and motioned Noctis forward. Noctis approached, blade in his hand and resolve in his heart. The speech had been boring, for sure, but Noctis had been feeling the weight of this day for years. Whatever his dad needed him to do, he was going to do it. If he could ease the king's burden even a little bit by learning to wield this power, then any amount of effort would be worth it.

He was determined to make his father proud.

Regis had never looked older than when he told Noctis, very solemnly, that what they were about to do was going to _hurt_.

What followed was the single most excruciating day of Noctis's entire life. The Marilith attack when he was a child paled in comparison. His body back then had at least had the decency to render him unconscious when the pain got to be too much.

Noctis _wished_ he was unconscious right now.

The Armiger. That was Noctis's first lesson. He'd always known that his father had a cache of weapons that he could summon at will whenever he needed them, and that their storage was tied to magic somehow. Yet he'd never imagined that he'd have to be stabbed by his own blade in order to imbue it with that magic - that he'd be literally carrying it inside himself, in some liminal space that existed only within his royal blood.

The Engine Blade hovered over him, turning translucent before it plunged into his chest. He screamed, and collapsed to his knees on the cold marble floor. He writhed in pain, clutching at the point of impact. His father knelt beside him, placing a hand on his back, and Noctis didn't know whether it was meant to console him, or to keep the blade inside him.

"This," his father explained gravely, "is the means by which the Lucii protect the Crystal."

' _Fuck_ the Crystal,' Noctis thought bitterly as he struggled back to his feet. Neither Regis's hand nor his words had brought Noctis any comfort.

Regis next taught him how to summon the vanished blade back into this plane, and Noctis was surprised at how readily it came to him. It felt strange, but it also felt natural. It also hurt a lot less than adding it to the Armiger had. When Regis instructed him how to release the sword back into the ether, Noctis nearly collapsed in relief that it didn't have to stab him this time.

After successfully banishing his sword, Noctis looked up. His eyes fell on Gladio, still standing beside his own father off to one side. Gladio looked ashen, and Noctis's insides twisted with remorse. He supposed Gladio had been as unaware as he was about the torture they'd both been about to endure.

Even so, Gladio's expression was one of grim determination as he turned to the king and, with all the bravery of a seasoned warrior, told him he was ready for his turn.

Regis smiled at him, but the slant of his mouth was somber and an unfathomable sadness sat behind his eyes.

The prince alone would bear his retinue's arms.

And so, Gladio was made to remain a bystander as Noctis went through the motions a second time, sweating and shaking, his breath hitching in his throat. Gladio's greatsword hurt no less than the Engine Blade had, but Noctis told himself that he'd cried out a little more quietly this time.

Only after Noctis added it to the Armiger was Clarus able to teach his son how to reach into the swirling current of the Crystal's energy and draw his sword forth again.

Noctis got no reprieve as Gladio finally learned of the magic's wrath himself. The Lucii, it turned out, did not like to share, and it took Gladio four agonizing tries before he managed to manifest his blade, even with Noctis trying to help will it into his hand. Noctis had never seen him struggle with something so hard in his life, and he _felt_ that struggle as the magic rebelled against Noctis's own desires to prevent Gladio from accessing it. Noctis felt the pull in his chest where the blades had struck him, and the once-dormant current under his skin burned in his veins like fire and ice and electricity all at once as it fought Gladio's intrusion.

When Gladio finally had his blade again, solid and real as when they'd started, he was gasping for air. Noctis was shocked to see Gladio's arms shaking as he tried to lift the weapon to its usual spot against his shoulder. When it became too much, he planted the sword against the floor, leaning heavily on it as he caught his breath.

When Gladio recovered sufficiently, Clarus taught him how to return it to the Armiger. That part went a lot more smoothly; Noctis figured the Lucii were pleased to take it back.

Regis nodded in approval at them both.

"Again."

\---

Hours later, after they'd practiced summoning their weapons to hand and dismissing them back into the Armiger so many times that Noctis's head spun from it, their lesson finally ended. Regis and Clarus praised them both for their efforts, then left to attend to other business with a reminder that there would be another session in a week's time. Eventually Gladio limped off as well. Left alone, Noctis finally allowed himself to fall in a boneless heap on the training hall floor, wondering if anyone would care if he fell asleep there.

His father and Clarus had been merciless in their tutelage, and every nerve in Noctis's body felt like it was screaming. His beloved new sword now seemed more like a curse than a gift. He could still feel it lodged in his chest, along with the shattered remains of Gladio's greatsword. The crystalline shards throbbed against his ribs in time to his heartbeat.

His phone buzzed.

Noctis blinked blearily at the floor, eyes unfocused.

His phone buzzed some more.

Noctis tried to will his arms to move, and couldn't quite seem to manage it.

The buzzing persisted several more times before falling silent. Only a moment passed before it started back up again.

With tremendous effort, Noctis lifted the phone to his ear and pressed to accept the call.

"Yeah?"

"Noct, where are you?"

Ignis sounded deeply concerned through the ringing in Noctis's ears.

"The Citadel," Noctis mumbled.

"Your chambers?" Ignis guessed.

"Training hall," Noctis corrected.

"There in a moment."

And he disconnected.

\---

Ignis took one look at Noctis, still slumped over on the floor, and turned on his heel.

"Specs, come on," Noctis pleaded. He knew what that pivot meant. It meant Ignis was going off in search of a wheelchair. Noctis had no desire to have all of the Citadel staff staring at him as he was wheeled out to the car in the wake of his first magic lesson. He'd had enough of those looks as a kid. "I just… need a hand."

Ignis made a sound in the back of his throat like he wanted to argue, but when Noctis met his eyes, he saw the fight drain out of him.

"…Very well. Up you get, then."

Ignis knelt down to put Noctis's arm around his shoulders. Noctis hissed in pain as Ignis straightened, taking Noctis with him.

"Where are you hurt?" Ignis asked, alarmed.

"Everywhere," Noctis groaned, seeing stars. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his head as he leaned on Ignis for support.

"Are you certain you can do this?"

Noctis set his jaw and nodded.

\---

Somehow, they made it to the car. Ignis deposited him as gently as possible in the passenger seat and belted him in before circling around to the driver's side. Normally, the leather seat was comfortable, soft from all the times Noctis had sat there before. Today, just touching it felt like an attack. He tried to make himself as small as possible, clenching his eyes shut against the discomfort.

Ignis had known him long enough not to ask questions and to just let him rest, for which Noctis was tremendously thankful.

He spent the ride home drifting in and out of consciousness, lulled by the hum of the car engine.

\---

When Noctis woke, the sun had gone down. He vaguely remembered arriving home. Ignis had all but carried him up to the apartment, and Noctis had fallen asleep in the middle of being told he needed to eat dinner. He was in his bed, now – still in his day clothes, sans shoes - and he laid there for a while, trying not to move. Moving hurt.

Lying still hurt, too, as it turned out. He willed himself to fall back to sleep, but it soon became clear that that wasn't happening. Annoyed, he flailed his arm around in the general direction of his nightstand until his hand connected with his phone. It was just past eight - not super late yet - so he tapped out a text to Gladio, asking how he was holding up.

The response came quickly, and affirmed what Noctis already knew: they both felt like they'd been trampled by a herd of mesmenirs.

Noctis took some comfort in knowing that Gladio was alive and awake. He'd had no idea how awful the whole thing was going to be, and he dreaded putting him through it again.

Groaning, Noctis dragged himself upright, then to his feet. He staggered out of his room and stopped short, confused to see Ignis on his couch at this hour. The lamp shone on him like a spotlight. He was reading what looked to be another of his dull political reports, and the idea of it made Noctis's head throb.

Very carefully, he started to turn back into his room.

"Feeling any better?"

Noctis grimaced. Ignis hadn't even looked up, and he'd still been caught. Resigned, Noctis sagged against the doorframe.

"Not really," he admitted.

"Shall I make you something to eat?"

Noctis felt a familiar pang in his chest that had nothing to do with the Armiger. It was a bizarre combination of irritation and guilt that only Ignis could inspire within him. Noctis was both annoyed and grateful that he'd stayed here into the night with the intention of cooking for him. A part of him felt awful, taking up Ignis's time like that.

But his presence was also a huge relief.

"I guess," Noctis muttered. "Just don't go crazy, alright? I'm not sure that whatever I do eat won't come back up."

"I'll refrain from anything too fancy," Ignis promised. He set his report aside and stood, making his way over to the kitchen and flipping the overhead lights on.

They both winced at the brightness.

Noctis wandered over to the now-vacant couch, his body silently protesting all the way. He sank onto it with a sigh. Despite having gotten a bit of sleep, he was still in a lot of pain. The throbbing in his chest was persistent enough to be distracting, and he was more acutely aware than ever of the Crystal's power coursing through his veins. Still, he could at least move around of his own accord now, which was an improvement over earlier in the evening.

Noctis rubbed idly at his chest, wondering why he hadn't bled when the swords had pierced him. He tugged at the neck of his t-shirt and glanced down. Sure enough, there was no sign on his skin that they'd ever come into contact with him.

He slumped over sideways into the pillows with a grunt.

"Will you be going to school tomorrow?" Ignis asked.

Noctis slapped his palm to his forehead. He'd completely forgotten. His birthday had been on Saturday, and so by necessity, his father had scheduled his first training for today. That was rapidly starting to feel like a mistake.

"I can call out for you if you'd prefer to take the day to recover," Ignis said, his back to Noctis as he stirred something on the stove.

"No, I'll go," Noctis said. Of course he would rather stay home, but he wasn't going to be able to justify it every week. He didn't want to fall behind in his studies or to worry Prompto. Noctis wasn't sure he could explain any of this to Prompto in a way that didn't sound absolutely terrifying, so if at all possible, he planned to avoid trying.

He was going to have to get used to this sooner or later. Might as well be sooner.

"As you wish."

He watched Ignis move about the kitchen, feeling disappointed in himself. Noctis knew he didn't have it in him to be making dinner, but it still felt wrong to just sit and watch. In an attempt to quell that feeling, he reached for the report Ignis had left on the coffee table and opened to the first page.

He read the opening line about fifteen times before giving up in disgust, unable to focus on it over the pain in his... everything. It had receded a little since he'd sat down, but 'little' was the key word. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to just focus on his own breathing.

The sound of a bowl being placed on the coffee table startled him.

"Dozed off, did we?" Ignis asked, sitting down on the other end of the couch. He had a second bowl in his hand.

Noctis sat up straighter and rubbed at his eyes.

"Didn't you eat earlier?"

Ignis nodded toward the discarded report on the couch between them.

"I may have gotten a bit distracted."

That anger-guilt pang was back. Noctis didn't buy that for one second. Ignis had stuck around all evening to make sure Noctis was okay, and had held off on eating until Noctis had been ready to.

Noctis had no idea how to respond to that, so he did what he normally did when things got awkward: he avoided the subject entirely. He picked up his own bowl and dug in, realizing upon smelling it that he was hungrier than he'd thought. It was a simple rice porridge, easy on the stomach, and for a few blissful moments, Noctis was distracted from his body's many protests.

Ignis reached over and picked up the report again, re-opening it to the page where he'd left off. He leaned forward, reading it as he ate.

Once upon a time, Noctis would have talked both of Ignis's ears off about everything that had happened during his new training, regaling him with every extraneous detail until some boring adult came along to drag one or the other of them off for more responsible pursuits.

That had been before Marilith.

He often thought of this part of his life as "AM," since his life "After Marilith" had felt like a perpetual bad morning, begun by his rude awakening into the world of suffering ruled over by his father. Daemons, war, death, and pain - that was to be Noctis's inheritance. Marilith fell across the timeline of his life like a stark, red line. It struck him suddenly how that line now segmented his life right in half, with eight years on either side.

Maybe this meant that every eight years, something stupidly painful would happen to him.

Staring sullenly into his bowl, Noctis wondered what Ignis would do if he started blabbing about how much magic sucked. If he tried to describe the feeling of invisible, incorporeal glass in his chest that somehow managed to cause him very visible, very corporeal pain. If he then reminded them both that someday in the not-too-distant future, Ignis would almost certainly be subjected to the same rigors Gladio had been, training beside him.

It made him queasy to think about it.

Noctis wondered if, when they started training together, Ignis would decide that he'd finally had enough of this. Of Noctis. Noctis knew Ignis was his friend. He knew it from the years Preceding Marilith. But he still had a tiny voice inside his head, all these years later, questioning whether Ignis really liked him as a person, or if he was truly just fulfilling his duty to Noctis's dad. Noctis would always be, at least in some way, Ignis's job.

He didn't have the guts to bring it up.

Instead, he asked, "So how was _your_ day?"

Ignis looked up from his reading. He seemed surprised by the question, which made Noctis feel like a huge jerk.

"A fair shake better than yours, I suspect," he replied.

Noctis made a noncommittal noise.

"I still don't see why I shouldn't have been there," Ignis said, and now it was Noctis's turn to be surprised.

"Did someone say you couldn't be?"

"His Majesty thought it best to wait until after you've grown more accustomed to the Crystal's power," Ignis said. There was a hint of frustration in his voice, which meant that he was actually really pissed off about it.

Noctis took another bite of his porridge, stalling for time to think. He swallowed, and said, "I mean, I guess I kind of get it. It would suck if we were both laid flat at the same time. When your time comes, I'll have to carry _you_ to the car."

Even as he made the joke, he cringed at it. The idea of Ignis feeling the way he felt right now wasn't the least bit funny.

Ignis frowned and shook his head.

"I understand wanting to wait for that reason. But I should still have been there, in the room, to support you. My apologies, Noct."

Noctis had nothing intelligent to say to that, so he stuck to eating the rest of his dinner.

When Ignis left for the night, he offered to give Noctis a ride to school the next morning, and Noctis accepted, feeling contrite but not sure he could actually make the walk in the state he was in.

Ignis, at least, seemed pleased by his answer.

\---

For the next several weeks, Noctis and Gladio continued taking lessons with their fathers. Noctis gradually started to get used to the magic. It didn't hurt any less, but his tolerance for the pain had increased significantly, and he supposed that was the best he could hope for.

Gladio, too, seemed to be getting the hang of things, and they had started incorporating what they'd learned with Regis and Clarus into their own one-on-one training.

The first thing Noctis learned after the Armiger was how to phase, and it was something of a shock to them both how well it evened the odds when they sparred. Where Gladio had usually been able to wear Noctis down over time, Noctis could now stand his ground for much longer, since he wasn't constantly trying to deflect Gladio's heavy blows and could instead simply phase out of the way when his arms got tired.

Next, Noctis learned how to imbue objects with the Crystal's magic. He could take any regular drink and turn it into a healing draught, and he found that different beverages made the healing magic feel different. After much experimentation, Noctis developed an affinity for energy drinks. True to their name, they seemed to work rapidly, and Noctis always felt energized after using one. In addition to healing his injuries, they made it easier to get out of any tight situation he found himself in during combat.

After that came elemental magic, which was actually a separate entity from that of the royal family. This magic came from Eos itself, and was much harder to control. Regis had been using it for so long that he could channel it at will, but as a beginner, Noctis needed a way to stabilize its power. To that end, his dad taught him how to draw fire, ice, and lightning into special rounded flasks, which could then be stored in the Armiger just like the rest of his weaponry. Unfortunately, these, too, had to shatter against his chest in order to enter for the first time, but in doing so, they became virtually indestructible. When Noctis threw one to cast the spell inside, the flask itself would return to the Armiger on impact, leaving only the elemental magic behind to wreak havoc on his target. He could then refill the flask again and again.

Gladio was a different story. While he had taken to the Armiger fairly quickly, magic flasks turned out to be his undoing. He had no affinity for them, nor they for him, and while he could summon them from the Armiger well enough, trying to integrate them into his style of combat proved much more difficult than either of them had anticipated. Gladio's MO was to get up close and personal with his opponents, so waiting for an opportunity to present itself from a distance was no good, and detonating the flasks too close to himself only resulted in a lot of potion-crafting on Noctis's part. They eventually agreed that Gladio would use them for emergency purposes only, and moved on.

Finally, after months of practice, Regis taught Noctis how to warp. It was supposed to be the hardest magic to master, but Noctis took to it like a fish to water. He loved the stretch and snap of it - the way time seemed to slow down right before and speed up immediately after. It was exhilarating, and Noctis utilized the skill as much as he possibly could, darting around the training hall and driving Gladio absolutely batshit.

Unfortunately, it was also exhausting to do it over and over. One afternoon, Noctis wore himself out so badly that he ended up sleeping for two straight days. Afterward, he woke up in his apartment with Ignis fretting and fussing over him, and he grew a little more sparing with the technique after that.

But only a little.

\---

Then one day, toward the end of the year, Noctis arrived in the training hall to find not Gladio, but Ignis, waiting for him. Ignis stood ramrod straight beside Regis, his hands folded behind his back. Both of their expressions were solemn.

Noctis's stomach did a backflip.

He saw his dad's mouth moving, but heard nothing but his own heart pounding as Regis gave Ignis a condensed version of the lecture Noctis and Gladio had received.

Noctis did not want to do this.

He stood very still as Regis walked Ignis through the process of committing his weapons to the Armiger. By now, Noctis had added a number of other weapons to his collection, and so when Ignis's daggers joined them, he only winced and staggered. He held in the scream.

Noctis wasn't sure he'd ever be able to unsee the look of abject horror on Ignis's face when his daggers turned to Crystal light and pierced Noctis's chest. And it only got worse from there. It took Ignis only two attempts to retrieve them, but the toll it took on him was obvious no matter how stoic he tried to be about it. Noctis could tell by his pallor that he was in agony and struggling to stifle it.

Noctis felt terrible. It hadn't been easy to watch Gladio go through it either, but Gladio at least had been training to be Noctis's shield since he was a young child. Ignis, though, had only two years of combat training under his belt, and was a lot less used to compartmentalizing the pain.

Even so, Ignis was nothing if not a quick study, and within the hour, he had mastered his side of the Armiger, despite the discomfort it so clearly caused him.

Regis suggested they resume training at another time, but Ignis respectfully insisted that he wanted to catch up to Noctis and Gladio as quickly as possible.

Noctis silently wished for his father to deny Ignis's request.

Instead, Regis reluctantly agreed.

As the two of them discussed how to summon and cast Noctis's elemental magic, Noctis tried not to panic.

Noctis was aware that Ignis had been studying how all of this worked since well before Noctis had turned 16. Ignis knew how everything worked, either from reading about it in his giant, dusty books, or simply by picking other people's brains, when Noctis was less than forthcoming. It was Ignis's job to know everything, and he did it very well.

But knowing and doing were two different things, and no amount of book-reading or question-asking prepared one for the kind of pain that the Lucii liked to dish out. Still, Ignis had the patience of a saint and loved a challenge as much as he loved a solid strategy. Noctis was sure that he would be willing to fight at a slower pace in order to incorporate magic into his style of combat, once he'd mastered the technique.

What Noctis was worried about was that Ignis would push himself too hard and try to master it too fast.

He was right to be concerned.

The first attempt was disastrous. Although Ignis had little difficulty this time reaching into the Armiger, he gripped the Fire flask too hard as it materialized. The surface cracked, burning his palm. Ignis let out a strangled shout, dropping the flask at his own feet and nearly immolating himself.

The instant Noctis realized what had happened, he warped straight into Ignis at full force. The impact sent them both sprawling out of harm's way as the flask dissipated and the spot where Ignis had been standing burst into flames. Noctis helped Ignis up, then grabbed his wrist, turning Ignis's palm up to assess the damage. It was already beginning to blister, and they both flinched at the sight of it.

Ignis tried to pull away.

"It's fine," he insisted, even though it really wasn't at all. "I'm fine, Noct."

"You will be," Noctis assured him, not letting go. He reached into the Armiger himself for the strongest restorative he had on him and broke it over Ignis's red, ruined hand. He watched intently as the wound healed, too fixated on the result to be embarrassed over how he was cradling Ignis's hand in his own until his dad asked if they were both all right.

Noctis dropped Ignis's hand and turned to Regis, trying to keep his voice steady as he asked if they could be done for the day. Ignis protested, but this time, Regis's decision fell in Noctis's favor.

The moment Regis left the room, Ignis's knees gave out from under him.

"Dammit, Specs!"

Noctis stooped to help him up again. He knew from the way that Ignis didn't put up a fight this time that the whole ordeal had taken much more out of him than he'd let on.

After that, he had a strange sense of deja vu. In a dramatic role reversal, Ignis was so drained that he could hardly move, and for once it was up to Noctis to hoist him up and half-carry him to the car. As he drove Ignis home, Noctis tried not to think too hard about how he'd joked all those months ago about doing this very thing. It hadn't been funny then and it was even less funny now.

When they arrived at Ignis's small apartment, Noctis had helped him to bed, and took Ignis's glasses off for him, putting them in their case on the bedside table.

He proceeded to crash on Ignis's couch, completely spent.

\---

He woke hours later with Ignis's scream and the crackling of flames echoing in his ears in lieu of an alarm clock. It took him a moment to realize that it was just in his memory, and not in the present. He let go of the fistful of t-shirt he'd unconsciously grabbed and tried to relax.

A quick look around reminded him of where he was and how he'd arrived there. He rubbed his eyes, trying to wake up fully. Ignis hadn't fallen asleep on Noctis when he'd been down for the count. He deserved Noctis's undivided attention.

Noctis padded to Ignis's bedroom door, which he'd left ajar in case of emergency, and peered inside. Ignis appeared to still be asleep, but as Noctis stepped back, Ignis shifted, turning toward the door. He blinked groggily up at Noctis.

"Noct?" Ignis asked, his voice thick with sleep.

"Yeah," Noctis said quietly.

"It's late."

"Sure is."

"You should be home, in bed."

Noctis snorted.

Ignis sat up, and Noctis could see the effort it took him.

"Take it easy," he muttered.

"I don't suppose you've eaten supper?" Ignis asked as he put his glasses on, the note of disapproval clear in his voice.

"Was waiting for you," Noctis countered.

Ignis sighed and got to his feet, a little unsteadily.

"I'll whip something up."

Noctis blanched.

"What? No," he said incredulously, putting his hand to Ignis's chest to halt his progress. Before Ignis could protest, he went on, "I know how much day one of magic training sucks, remember? Just…" He took back his hand, rubbing at his neck instead. "…leave dinner to me, just this once. Okay?"

Ignis's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.

Noctis scowled.

"Give me some credit, would you?" he groused. "You don't cook for me _every_ day, and I'm not dead yet."

"'Not dead' is not a very high bar," Ignis pointed out.

Noctis didn't dignify that with a response, turning on his heel and marching to Ignis's kitchenette. He could feel Ignis's eyes on him as he dug around in Ignis's fridge and cupboards. Nothing he laid eyes on was anything he knew how to work with, which wasn't saying much.

Knowing a lost cause when he saw one, Noctis straightened and turned back around. Ignis looked at him expectantly.

"Hang on," Noctis muttered, and went out into the hallway before Ignis could ask him any questions.

Closing the door behind him, he pulled out his phone and made a quick call to one of the delivery places nearby. He was embarrassed to resort to it, which was why he was making the order out of Ignis's earshot. But he was _not_ , under any circumstances, letting Ignis nurse _himself_ back to health. He was always taking care of Noctis; Noctis was going to take care of him for a change.

Even if it was via his credit card, and not his own hands.

He let himself back into the apartment and was relieved to see Ignis seated on the couch. He'd half expected to find him pulling out pots and pans.

In point of fact, Ignis wasn't doing anything at all, which spoke volumes about how worn out he really was.

Noctis had known Ignis for a long time, and he knew that Ignis was the definition of a perfectionist. He was certain that Ignis was beating himself up inside for not having mastered magic on his very first try. He wracked his brain for a topic he could discuss with Ignis that would distract him while they waited for their food to arrive.

Ignis beat him to the punch.

"Apologies, Noct."

"What for?"

"I let you down today."

The well of frustration and guilt inside Noctis filled to overflowing.

"You did _not_ ," he said fiercely. When Ignis declined to look up, he crossed the room and threw himself down on the other end of the couch. "I'm serious, Ignis. You _didn’t_."

Ignis was staring down at his hand - the same hand, Noctis realized, that he had burned earlier. Ignis opened and closed his fist.

"I fail to see how."

Noctis ground his teeth, casting about for the right words.

"You didn't do any worse than Gladio or I did on our first day."

That got him. Ignis looked up, disbelief clear on his face.

"Really. Which of you nearly cooked yourself alive?"

"Neither," Noctis spat, "because neither of us was capable, or even thought to try to cast a spell that first time. We were barely keeping it together with the whole Armiger thing."

"And there was that, as well," Ignis persisted, seeming to leap at the opportunity to degrade himself further. "I may as well have stabbed you with those daggers myself. I had no idea--"

"None of us did!" Noctis said loudly, cutting him off. "None of us knew how hard this was gonna be. We're dealing with ancient Lucian magic, and fighting was never part of your job description. You're doing it anyway, and I'm not going to try and stop you, but you need to cut yourself some slack. We all do. That's why we're going to help each other through it." He was trying to sound authoritative, but he couldn't help but add, "…Right?"

Ignis looked at him, hesitating. His hand had closed back into a fist, resting on his lap.

Noctis swallowed hard, then reached across the couch to cover Ignis's hand with his own for the second time that day.

Ignis went very still.

"…We'll get you some gloves," Noctis said. It wasn't what he'd meant to say, but it was all he could manage at the moment.

Ignis gave a choked little laugh.

"I suppose it's a start."

Ignis's intercom buzzed, then, and Noctis leapt to his feet, suddenly very aware of how long he'd been holding Ignis's hand.

"Food's here; be right back!"

As he darted down to the lobby, Noctis felt as though he'd made some sort of breakthrough. And when he set out the food and Ignis complimented him on his selection, he knew they were going to be okay.

Ignis always had his back, and Noctis would always have his. They'd get through this.

Together.


End file.
